Asking for Directions

I'm generally pretty good at finding my way around, but I'm also not afraid to ask for directions. Mostly I want to get where I'm going as efficiently as possible. Just as an aside, Pandey shared this attitude with me. In fact, he pressed me time and time again to ask for directions even though I told him I knew where we were going. Of course as I think back on it, he pressed me more frequently after I accidentally took him uptown on the subway instead of downtown.

Anyway, I'm noticing some regional differences in how locals respond to requests for directions. In California, anyone you ask will give you directions, even if the directions are wrong -- and they frequently are. But it's so congested in CA, you can't find these people later to berate them, and they know it.

In Colorado, nobody knows how to get where you want to go. (That might have something to do with the incredibly lame road-naming system. Think three different roads with the number 16 in the name, all within one-half mile of each other.) They tell you so and move on quickly, before you can engage them in further conversation.

Now, in New York, people *love* to give directions. If you stop your purposeful stroll and dare to look momentarily puzzled, someone will come up and ask you where you want to go. I swear. This happens to me every time I go to the city. It seems to be a matter of particular pride (as we've hinted at in earlier posts) to be expert in the arcana of the public transportation system. So if you ask someone where the nearest subway station is, he will ask where you are going and then he will tell you which side of the street and which train you need.

Interestingly, when Pandey and I got off the uptown bound train and wanted to go the other way, we stopped a suit who stood with us looking up and down the tracks, at the signs, and at the various stairways. He was stumped but he didn't want to say so. Next we stopped some dockers with the same result. Soon we had four people, all of whom agreed that there must be a way to the other side, but none could figure it out. We tried to release these guys, but eventually had to walk away from them. We struck gold with our next target (jeans). He didn't hesitate. He said, "You can't get to the other side from here. You have to exit. Then you need to go to the booth and explain what happened. If the guy's in a good mood, he'll let you in the gate. If he's not, you'll have to pay again."